


Dark Brotherhood

by Amethyst97Skye



Series: The Northern Star of Skyrim [2]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Dark Brotherhood - Freeform, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2016-12-13
Packaged: 2018-09-08 11:14:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8842552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amethyst97Skye/pseuds/Amethyst97Skye
Summary: When I was first targeted by the Dark Brotherhood, it came as quite a shock. I got over it, and so did Aster.





	1. Vampires and Werewolves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arnbjorn had always enjoyed teasing Babette, testing the extent of her abilities and patience. What did he have in store for her today…?

Babette smelled blood the second she stepped outside. The sun was setting as she passed the black pond and, after inhaling the air languorously, turned westward up the mild incline that led to the dense forest of Falkreath, following the tell-tale scent of a fresh kill, licking her lips in anticipation. She had only reached the rim of the ridge when she noted the clawed and bloodstained bark of a mighty pine; looking up, her keen eyes caught sight of a bloodied scroll nailed to the tree with what appeared to be a dagger.

Being a three-hundred-year-old vampire had its perks but, underneath it all, Babette was still a curious child. It was for that reason that she began to climb, a predatory grin plastered across her darling face.

A sheen of sweat had broken out across her forehead by the time she neared her prize, and Babette’s mind fondly wandered to a relaxing in a nice ice bath, after having rubbed her victory in Arnbjorn’s face. When she reached the offending limb he had likely sat upon to place the clue, Babette could indeed smell the stench of wet dog, there was no mistaking it, but it did _not_ smell like Arnbjorn.

She could also smell a sickening scent of decay laced in the blood that covered the scroll, and what colour the climb had brought to her pale flesh vanished.

Babette’s suspicions were confirmed when she removed the steel dagger and a cloud of metallic-tasting dust was flung like a fireball against her face. She spat it out, spitting until her throat ran dry, her blunt fingernails dotting the parchment, to which she clung to, with tiny scars. Opening the offending scroll with enough force to tear it, Babette stared dumbly at the message written within.

Fearfully, she glanced to the dagger in her hand, her fingers running absently over the dry, emerald green, moss-coated hilt. Casting her gaze about frantically, but finding nothing within a threatening proximity, Babette hastily stowed the scroll and dagger in her enchanted belt pouch, and descended the tree at a sprint that would have put Arnbjorn to shame. She tore back down the hill, splashing through the black pond, to hammer against the Black Door, silence be damned.


	2. Silence, My Brother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What is the music of life...?

Arnbjorn paused mid-sentence and Astrid raised her head at the resounding pounding at their door. She had time only to step away from her map and reach for the Blade of Woe before Babette, who was worryingly flushed, ran straight into Arnbjorn’s outstretched arms. Tears glistened at the corners of her eyes, but she did not cry. Instead, she threw the pouch Festus enchanted for her on the table before hiding her face, burrowing her sensitive nose into Arnbjorn’s chest.

Sheathing her blade, Astrid opened and emptied the pouch, and her eyes immediately fell upon a dull shining steel dagger, fixed with a marshy-green moss hilt, the blade of which – when brought to her nose – still smell faintly of swamp fungal pods.

“Parra,” she snarled. “How?”

“The scroll,” Babette choked, absently leaning into Arnbjorn’s protective embrace.

Astrid set aside several potions and poisons before she could pull the thick roll of parchment free. She opened it slowly, her nose twitching at the offset of dark silver dust. Instinctively, Arnbjorn clutched Babette tighter, but his eyes fell with his wife’s as a considerably thinner, and older piece, of parchment fell. Astrid caught it before it reached the floor, unfolded it with grace, and froze where she stood.

_As instructed, you are eliminate Aster by any means necessary. The Black Sacrament has been performed – somebody wants this poor fool dead._

_We have already received payment for the contract. Failure is not an option._

_Astrid_

Her hands clutched the sheet in a vice, her gloves creaking with the intensity of her fury. Slamming the note down on the table, cracking the stone beneath, Astrid returned to the scroll. The following message was written in congealing blood.

_Don’t send your husband to do your dirty work._

_Enjoy the silence while it lasts, and give my regards to your mother._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The third alchemical effect for Swamp Fungal Pod is paralysis. I imagine she was Argonian.


End file.
